


Grey Heart

by Raaj



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, tiz is not having a fun day (or life for that matter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raaj/pseuds/Raaj
Summary: Ties into a particular tent scene in chapter 5.  Tiz found it hard to cope after Agnès is taken away, again, to somewhere he can't even hope to follow. Altair helps him get through it, but the spirit can't help being worried.





	Grey Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Hopeless Miracle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673110) by [Komatsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Komatsu/pseuds/Komatsu). 



Tiz knows all the reasons he needs to stay alive. Yew is counting on him. Edea is counting on him. Magnolia is counting on him.

Altair, too.

The spirit hasn’t manifested since the world froze in time, but Tiz can still feel his companion inside him. Having Altair with him is like having a second heart. For so long, their hearts have been steady in pace with each other: full of concern, but brimming over with hope. Even before Altair actually introduced himself, Tiz knew that somehow, he was never alone, and that had been comforting. Though on rare occasions the other presence had been just a little disquieting: some surprises hit him harder than they should with his companion shocked as well, or Altair might feel one way when he felt another, resulting in echoes of feelings he couldn’t explain until he knew for sure there was someone else…

That dissonance came back when the Kaiser took Agnès into the distant past. It’s been growing stronger ever since. When Tiz takes a dagger out from under the bloody coat of the exorcist despite there being no enemies around, one heart is calm and still. It’s the other heart that flutters with anxiety, making him feel nauseous.

“If you don’t like it,” he tells Altair, “come out and stop me.” He unsheathes the dagger, examines its blade as though there might actually be marks left since he last cleaned it. Time’s stopped, but he knows it wasn’t all that long ago. The point is that if Altair really doesn’t like this, then maybe he should come out, and take over, so Tiz doesn’t have to be the responsible one who doesn’t hurt himself.

But Tiz has been exercising  _so_  much restraint–being strong for Magnolia, who’s lost her home (like him), and Edea, who feels like she’s failed her best friend (like him), and Yew, who needs someone he can look to for reassurance (like him)–that it’s quite thoroughly exhausted, and his hands are shaking with impatience as he waits, and waits, and waits. When Altair fails to do anything more than make him feel sick with stupid, useless worry, he makes the first cut against his arm.

The pain is good and sharp in a world that’s turned dull and grey. Even his own blood is weak in color, a darker grey against the palest grey of his skin. Just looking at it, the injury hardly seems real.

–A second, fresh slice, reaffirms that it is. Both radiate hurt, and he has to suck down a breath as he moves to make a third cut, but it’s easier to push past the pain and Altair’s weak protests now that his heart is singing with anger. He can’t punish the Kaiser for stealing Agnès away and using her. But he can punish himself for failing her, and it’s–not enough, not by a long shot, but it’s something. If Altair doesn’t like it, he can come out. He can take over. He can talk to Edea and Magnolia and Yew, and he can give them smiles. Altair’s might even be real. He still seems to have some hope. Maybe he actually has an idea for how to fix the mess they’re in. He should just take over and let Tiz stop…having to  _exist_  for a while. That would be wonderful. Tiz knows that Altair was put into him by a stone, so the spirit has some sort of physical form, doesn’t he? Even if Altair can’t come out himself, maybe if Tiz digs deep enough, he’ll find it. A way for Altair to come out, so he can sleep and not have to wake up.

It doesn’t really make sense, but it’s a hope, and Tiz clings to it, carving again. Deeper. Until, finally, Altair’s anxiety ebbs into grief. The feeling is old and deep and combines with Tiz’s own sadness until he’s overwhelmed, doubled over and sobbing too hard to continue. He’s being cruel: as desperately as he wants Altair to come out, he knows the spirit would have done so by now if he could, if only to make Tiz stop. He can’t punish himself without punishing Altair; he can’t stop being without taking away Altair’s only means for existence as well. He shouldn’t hurt Altair. He wouldn’t hurt any of his other friends for this. He has to stop.

Even knowing that, Tiz is slow to take the dagger away from his arm. Altair’s relief is evident the instant he does, the second heart lighter. Tiz curls up on himself, trying to listen to that heart instead of his own, which is still too heavy to be moved. The spirit might not be able to communicate with Tiz in words right now, but he thinks if he had to express this feeling, sad but calm and stronger than him, he would say something like ‘we’ve kept going this long, we can keep going longer’. It’s not the peace he wants or the hope that’s been ripped away, but it’s a phrase he can say to himself as he cleans and heals the cuts that have been open too long for an exorcist’s Undo, and it’s true. He can keep going longer. He can keep going longer. And if he keeps going, maybe he can find a reason to have bothered.

It’s the faintest twilight of hope. It might not last. He might have another breakdown. Next time… He won’t think about a 'next time’ right now. Just one foot in front of the other.

* * *

 

One foot in front of the other. Again, and again, and again… and finally, Yew’s appeal finds someone’s ears. Whose, Tiz isn’t sure, though he has the oddest feeling he should know. The world rewinds, and Yew summons him, and Magnolia, and Edea through the hourglass. In that instant, Tiz can feel so much of the others’ hope–and Altair’s, Altair may not have words but his heart is shouting with hope–that the hope in himself, the feeling he thought was lost, sparks back to life in a blaze. The feeling is so strong he can’t  _not_  act on it. He has a chance to save Agnès, and he won’t let her be taken away ever again!

In retrospect, he thinks he might have acted a little ridiculously. But they all had, they had all been overjoyed to shake the weight of that doomed world off their shoulders. And they actually  _win_  this time, they beat the Kaiser back and Agnès is safe. It’s a little sad that she feels the need to shatter her pendant again, but it also means he can talk to her anytime he needs reassurance that she’s well, so he can’t complain. He’s happy, and Altair’s heart echoes that happiness, and with their strength combined, having to fight the empire again seems easy.

He’s happy when, after so long of just barely being there, Altair’s consciousness nudges to the forefront of his thoughts, a sign that he wants to take over for a few moments. Tiz gladly lets him have control. Whatever Altair wants to share with them, it’s probably important. And indeed, when the man muses about “Vega”, Tiz knows the feeling reaching out from the other heart. Longing.

After a few moments, though, Altair decides to focus on Tiz, and Tiz starts to feel like maybe,  _maybe_  he should start asking Altair what he wants before letting the spirit take over his body, because he’s not sure where Altair is going with this.

“When the Kaiser stole away with Agnès, something seemed to break inside the boy… He was filled with anger, sadness, hopelessness… He blamed the world, and his heart turned dark.”

It’s not as if Altair is lying. Tiz knows very well, his heart did turn dark. He was angry and sad. He hurt himself. He hurt Altair. …He hurt Altair–is that why the spirit is telling the others this? He broke Altair’s trust, so it’s only fair that his own is broken? Altair isn’t the sort to seek payback. But maybe Tiz would deserve it, and knowing that shakes him.

“It was only your company that calmed his soul…and gave him a measure of peace,” Altair continues, and a portion of Tiz’s fear eases. Maybe the man is only saying this to thank their friends for having been there. They did help. He should thank them, too.

But he still has an uneasy feeling that the spirit wants to say more, especially when Edea chimes in sadly: “Yeah… Losing Agnès must have been rougher on him than anyone…”

No, no no no, it’s not like that. Losing Agnès was hard on everyone, he knows that. He took it worse. He loves her, and…he doesn’t have many other people he’s close to anymore. But everything is better now. Agnès was never taken, never lost. He hasn’t had any breakdowns, he hasn’t hurt himself since–there’s not a mark on his arms, there’s nothing to show and nothing to tell and absolutely nothing for Edea to worry about–

Altair’s heart stays steady and calm; Tiz feels only the minutest shift in response to his rising panic. “But I should say no more, lest Tiz grow angry with me.” It sounds almost like a rebuke for the boy’s anxiety, but there’s no upset in Altair’s heart. Only love and gentleness. Altair isn’t trying to punish him, or expose his weakness. Not exactly. He’s just… concerned.

But when Tiz regains control, he still looks anxiously down at his arms to reassure himself. They’re unblemished, whole. Even so, he can’t look Edea in the eyes, instead rubbing the back of his head as he stares at the floor of the tent. “…Sheesh. He sure is a talker…”

“Tiz, we had no idea you were hurting so much. When you feel that bad, you shouldn’t keep it all bottled up inside.”

He was glad she hadn’t had a clue. What would he have told her about how he felt then? Even now, he doesn’t know how he could express it in a way less alarmist than 'I wanted to die.’ That wouldn’t help anyone. “I just didn’t want to…" His mouth is drying out, and he swallows. The sudden rush of nerves is turning his stomach. He’s never been good at fibbing, and finishes awkwardly: “…you know…” while hoping she really doesn’t.

He can tell from the way Edea stands, feet shoulder width apart and planted firmly, arms raised, that he’s frustrating her. “No more clamming up, you hear me!?” But she doesn’t scold him any further than that. Instead she holds out their shard of Agnès’ pendant as a blue light twinkles from it.

“Thank you, Tiz…from the bottom of my heart!”

Agnès. How long has she been listening–? Tiz looks up to see his hope smiling at him, her expression full of light and joy. She’s always had this warmth and kindness in her, but she used to be so shy with it. Now she radiates. He can feel himself radiating too, but it’s more fluster than light. “I-I’m going to protect you this time. It’s a promise!” If he can do that, then he’ll deserve her thanks.

“I know you will!”

And then Edea tells her something strange about waiting for them to pull up all the carrots and parsley–oh, right, Altair passed along some sort of saying about those. …It’s still easier for Tiz to tell how Altair is feeling by the connection between their hearts than it is for him to decipher some of the man’s proverbs. Agnès’ confusion is obvious, but she’s still smiling, still happy, and that makes Tiz smile even after the light of the pendant has faded. Still, when he lays himself down to sleep on his roll, he’s a little anxious: would Altair decide during the night that he should have said more? Leave one of the others a note? But since he realized Tiz doesn’t want that… Altair’s a good person. He’s done nothing but help. Tiz can trust him to let him keep what privacy still exists when a body is shared between two individuals. Even though Altair  _must_  have been hurt, being made to witness that, and Tiz has no idea how he could make up for that…

It’s an uneasy sleep he falls into. He wakes up to the end of a purple pen jabbing in his cheek and nearly works up to alarm before realizing everyone else is still asleep, undisturbed, and there’s a piece of paper sticking to his stomach that he feels as soon as he moves. Altair placed his writing in a place only Tiz would see, and see the moment he woke up. A private communication.

To read the words  _I am sorry_  makes Tiz blink a few times, bringing the note closer to the light of his lantern. Altair is not the one who needs to apologize here. Though at least his next few sentences make it clear why the man even thought that.  _A man deserves his privacy. I was never going to tell them all, but I should have consulted with you first. You need to talk to your friends, Tiz. A simple lettuce leaf can make a salad with the right dressing, but ah! How much more vibrant the salad is with other vegetables to lend their flavor. Edea, Agnès, Yew, Magnolia; all of them would be glad to help you._

Tiz can’t write an answer at first, too busy burying his face in his pillow. His hands pull back on his hair hard enough to hurt a little. He knows the others would want to help him, but he couldn’t have burdened them with this, on top of everything else, when it was actually a problem. And now that it isn’t…well, it isn’t. He didn’t handle losing Agnès and seeing the world end very well. He thinks he could be excused.

Except this isn’t the first time he’s had such a breakdown, and he wonders if Altair can sense enough to know that. Back during the journey with Agnès, he…got overwhelmed then, too. Without the exorcist asterisk, he’d used potions and bandages to fix the wounds he gave himself, feeling guilty for using up items in such a way but not enough to stop himself. He doesn’t even remember what set him off, so…he really can’t blame it on the circumstances there, can he? It’s him, not being strong enough to handle things.

He doesn’t want to disappoint Agnès or Edea, telling them such a thing. He doesn’t want to let down Magnolia or Yew when they trust him so much. It was bad enough that Ringabel might have known, and now Altair does.

He’s still too upset to bother looking for the green pen when he finally finds some words. Altair will know it’s him.  _You don’t have to apologize, I should say sorry. What I did was terrible. Forgive me._  After that, Tiz hesitates. Altair didn’t offer, but he’s the oldest and most mature of the group by far. He was roughly twice as old as Yew when he passed away. And it would be easier for Tiz–but that’s a selfish way to think, especially after how he’s already burdened Altair–but Altair would hear anything he told anyone else, anyway. That’s just a part of the possession.

_Can I talk to you?_

There’s that little nudge against his mind. Tiz hesitates only for a second before letting Altair take control and seeing his hand dart over the page to form the first four words, the most important words of the man’s response:

_Of course, my friend._

 


End file.
